


Acquaintances

by lunarlychallenged



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlychallenged/pseuds/lunarlychallenged
Summary: “I read that friends are the people you hang out with alone.  Like, everybody else is an acquaintance.”





	Acquaintances

“I was reading this thing,” JoJo said.

“God must be real,” Elmer intoned, “because I just witnessed a miracle.”

There were scattered laughs around The Tree in the school yard. There was more than one tree out there, but your tree was beautiful. It was tall and old, with thick bark and swirling roots that felt like they had seen more than a little magic in their time. It was The Tree, and the lot of you sat out with it more often than not.

“Really,” JoJo said. He was leaning forward, fingers dancing along the ground as he spoke. “I read that friends are the people you hang out with alone. Like, everybody else is an acquaintance.”

“So? We hang out alone,” Albert said.

“If ‘alone’ means with at least four other people, sure,” you countered. “How often do any of us actually hang out together without anybody else there?”

You saw Race open his mouth to argue, but he paused. Uncertainty flashed across everybody’s faces. With a friend group as large as yours, every hangout seemed like a big group. How often did any of you really hang out with just one person without there being a specific reason?

You spent Thursday nights with Davey, but that was only because the two of you studied for APUSH together.

Race and JoJo went running together, but they were the two on the track team. They were just trying to keep in shape.

Mike and Ike were brothers, so they hardly ever got away from each other.

“That’s bull,” Jack said. His voice was firm, but his eyes darted around to the people you knew he saw less. Friends, or acquaintances?

“Totally,” you said. “JoJo was just saying something he read, right?”

JoJo squirmed a little. “Yeah, for sure. Just saying.” He gave a hesitant smile. “We’re all friends.”

That didn’t mean that you weren’t a little worried. You looked at each of your friends, starting to wonder if maybe you didn’t know them as well as you thought. Like, if you didn’t have memories of them without other people, did you know what they were really like?

Probably.

Hopefully.

 

 

Race: we should hang out

Y/N: sure. what’s the plan?

Race: i don’t care. what do you want to do?

Y/N: we could have Albert get us into a free movie

Race: i was thinking just the two of us

Y/N: like a date, or like jojo was saying

Race: jojo. unless you were offering

Y/N: jojo it is

 

 

You wondered if Race was doing the same for the others. You wondered if he was making it his mission to ensure that all of his friends were his Friends.

You wondered if you should be doing the same, or if you were making a point by only spending more alone time with Race.

If so, it was a point that you were okay with making.

 

 

“You weren’t really worried that we weren’t friends, right?” You were knotting Race’s shoelaces together. He watched, distantly intrigued, but didn’t try to stop you.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I wasn’t sure.”

“How could you not be sure? We’ve known each other for a million years. Actually, since always.”

He propped his chin up in one hand. “When was my first kiss?”

You paused, mid-knot. You weren’t sure.

“How do I take my coffee? What’s my dream dog? Which of my parents do I trust more?”

You cringed. “Maybe you’re right. Good acquaintances, but not good friends.”

“Don’t feel bad,” he rushed. “For real, I couldn’t answer those questions for you, either. The thing is, I really want to be able to.”

“I do, too,” you said. Then, with a grin, “S’more.”

“What?”

“From Bigby’s. The S’more latte that comes out in the fall. I saw you drinking one outside the school, really fast so the others wouldn’t see.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know you saw that.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. He made a point of hopping around in his tied shoes to make you laugh, and you didn’t have to force the grin he drew out.

 

 

Race took you into the depths of the city, in search of the perfect cookie.

“I feel like we need to have a type in mind,” you said. “To accurately judge.”

“Planning is for the weak,” he said. 

“What, you want to buy every kind, in every shop, until we can pick a favorite?”

“Not a favorite,” he said. He scrolled through his phone, searching for a store that would scream “I HAVE THE BEST COOKIES IN NEW YORK.”

(NAY, THE WORLD.)

“We’re picking the best,” he finished. “This is objective, Y/N. Get your subjective favoritism out of my serious cookie zone.”

You bit into a molasses cookie, smiling when it melted against your tongue. “I’m game. I’m also too poor for this, but I’m game.”

When he smiled at you, you thought that maybe the smile was worth being broke for.

 

 

Albert spun the basketball on one finger, raising pleased eyebrows at you. “Pretty cool, huh?”

You nodded, catching the ball when he tossed it to you. It promptly rolled off your finger when you tried. “You have mad skills, Al.”

The two of you passed the ball back and forth, aiming for the line between active and slacking. The gym teacher would yell if you looked lazy, but he would expect more from you if you looked talented.

“So, what’s going on between you and Race?” Albert’s question was void of humor; there was only curiosity.

“We’re just friends,” you said.

“Pretty exclusive friends.”

“Like JoJo said,” you shrugged. “He wanted to prove we were friends by doing it solo.”

“Weird,” he said. “I always thought he liked you. I thought that this was, like, the friendly bit that leads up to the kissy bit.”

“What do you mean, liked me?” You thought about those first texts; ‘unless you were offering.’ You slapped on a cheeky grin to mask the confusion. “Not anymore?”

“Like I said.” Albert tossed the ball to you, and you had to scramble to keep it from flying over your shoulder. “I thought it was leading up to something.”

 

 

Good uses for complementary glasses of water:

1\. Drink it.

2\. Use to grow those animal sponges that come in little dissolvable pills.

3\. Dip your fingers in and flick water at your date-mate.

4\. Systematically add ingredients to the water, drinking from it to prove that you are The True Winner.

You and Race were fans of number four.

It had started with a pack of salt.

Sugar.

French fry seasoning.

Ketchup.

A spoonful of your milkshake.

Crushed red pepper.

The two of you would take a drink from the glass each time something new was added. Your server had wrinkled his nose with confusion and disgust, but sneakily handed you a small cup of ranch to dump in.

“This is pretty gross,” you said. You felt vaguely gag-y, and you liked to think that you could smell the foggy non-water.

Race grinned. “That means we’re doing something right.” He looked around quickly, leaned over to the recently abandoned table next to yours, and grabbed a spoonful of coleslaw. He dumped it in, stirred, and audibly gagged. Hoarked, you thought with satisfaction. That was the word. He hoarked.

“My turn,” you said. You pulled the cup closer, looked in, and hesitated.

“Chickening out?” The two of you had not made a bet. There was nothing riding on this. Even so, you didn’t want the night to end. You didn’t want to go home. You just weren’t sure that this Glass of Death was worth it.

Race’s blond curls stuck out haphazardly. His eyes were bright, and he vibrated with excitement.

Yeah, he was worth it.

“I need you to hype me up,” you stalled.

“How?”

“Dunno. Compliment me.” You did not need a compliment. You just wanted him to talk.

“You have eyes,” he said.

A corner of your mouth lifted. “Thanks. That’s not a compliment, but thanks for noticing.”

“It is too a compliment,” he argued.

“How’s that?”

“You have eyes,” he said again. You wanted to mock him for it, but the way he said it made your throat dry. He said it like, you have eyes. Not just eyes. Eyes that he noticed; that were worth looking at.  
His own were still bright, but they had a hint of intensity they had lacked before.

Without another word, you grabbed the water and took a big gulp.

“Oh my God,” you choked. 

He gave a hoot of laughter, pure light all over again. “Y/N! That was way too much!”

“I know. I think I’m dying.”

“If you aren’t already, you will be.” He pulled out his wallet and put money under the bill. “You win. That was bravery, if I ever saw it.”

“That wasn’t bravery.” You had your head pressed against the tabletop, wishing that your tongue would just shrivel up. You weren’t sure you wanted it anymore. It would never be the same. “That was stupidity.”

“The only difference,” he said as he offered you a hand up, “is that bravery is for a cause.”

He tossed you a piece of gum once you got to his car, and you were in a bit of a daze on the way home.

You have eyes.

 

 

“Hey, Race?”

He looked up from the comic book he was reading. Something with Deadpool, you thought. “Yeah?”

“You trust your dad more.” Adopted dad, of course; Race had never talking to you about his biological parents. You didn’t even know if he remembered them. “When he tells you that you’re like him, you think that things might turn out okay.”

His eyes were blank for a second, but the way they exploded into realization and joy and relief did wild things to your stomach. “That sounds about right.”

“You like big dogs. Big dogs with lots of fur; it doesn’t matter what kind.”

“They’re fun to hug,” he agreed. “And it’s easier to salsa with them that way.”

You leaned back on the arm of his basement couch, still facing him. Good. You had proved some kind of point, even if it wasn’t an important one. You were learning about him, too. Friendly things, that you might remember when you were fifty and looking at teenagers in the store.

Racetrack Higgins used to eat bowls of marshmallows and chocolate chips, you would think to yourself. I wonder if he still does?

“What about my first kiss?” Race waited expectantly. “Do you know that one?”

“Nancy Berkey, seventh grade,” you said. “You were swimming at the public pool, and you laid one on her as a joke.”

You had not gone to the pool that day. If you had, you thought you might have cried after seeing it. Your crush on him had been different then, all personal and fluttery and all-encompassing. It was less about you, now, and more about him.

“That’s right,” he said. “What now? You’ve answered all of the questions.”

You shrugged. “You started this. I’ve heard that you had some other motives at the start. What now?”

He licked his lips; it was the only thing that gave away his surprise. “Oh? What did you hear?” When you shrugged, he leaned forward. “I didn’t have any motives. No plans. Plans are for the weak.”  
  
When he kissed you, you leaned in to meet him in the middle.

His fingers cupped your jaw, a little slick from the pages of the comic book. He didn’t try to push you further; it was all close-lipped, all gentle, all sweet.

“I still don’t know your favorite kind of dog,” he said when he pulled away. “I think we’ll need to hang out more. Until I figure it out, I mean.”

Maybe you wouldn’t wonder what he would be like when you got old. Maybe he would still be there.


End file.
